


He is not a Stark

by Potoo



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-09 05:01:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potoo/pseuds/Potoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are seven direwolf pups found, one for Theon too. But the direwolf is the Starks' sigil, not the Greyjoys'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He is not a Stark

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a kink meme prompt by livejournal user #sweetbitter, and there were many ways I could've taken this - but in the end I decided for that what I am best in.  
> Link to the original prompt: http://asoiafkinkmeme.livejournal.com/14196.html?thread=8625012  
> Also, English's not my native language. Doesn't mean I write like an albatross on drugs (albatrosses usually can't write that well in my experience, no offense) - but it's possible that I might make stupid looking mistakes once in a while.

_He is not a Stark, and he never will be._

It's a small thing, smaller even than Snow's runt, and he finds it crawling straight into a stream. Theon picks it up roughly by its neck, and it whines in a high-pitched tone. The others have already mounted their horses again, Robb telling him to hurry, and Theon unceremoniously puts the creature to its brothers and sisters he's already holding.

_He is not a Stark, and he never will be._

"Lord Stark," he asks when the children have chosen their pups, and Eddard Stark looks at him with this serious, hard gaze that makes Theon want to run in fear and to laugh at the same time, „it appears that there's one pup that remains alone.“ Stark doesn't move, so Theon continues. He smiles weakly. "It hasn't even opened its eyes yet. Could it be your lady wife is with child again?"  
Stark stares in the direction of the pup, still whining miserably, its small paws padding uselessly at the ground. The Stark children have already left the place, to start feeding their own pups. Nobody has spared the little one a second thought.  
"You mean to say this one is my unborn child's wolf?" Theon shrugs, his smile growing into a grin. He won't dare uttering comments too bold where Lord Stark can hear him, so he stays quiet. The pup is ugly and weak. It looks as if it hasn't once drunken from its mother's teats since it was born.  
Then, Lord Stark shakes his head. "It is not, and it is too weak – it will not live to see the morning. Six pups for six Stark children. Do with it what you will."  
Theon bows his head.  
Snow isn't even a Stark, he thinks.

_He is not a Stark, and he never will be._

There is no reason to feed the weak thing, Theon thinks; yet he finds himself sitting in his rooms, a cloth dripping with milk in his one hand and the pup in the other. Would be more merciful to simply kill it, to shorten its misery. But Ironborn aren't known for their mercy. It's a male wolf, he's found out, and a very hungry one. He has eaten well, and has fallen asleep right in Theon's hand. His whining has stopped in sleep, but his breathing is accompanied by a wheezing sound. He's warm, but his fur is scratchy, not soft like the other wolves'.  
Theon gently runs his hand through his fur. The wolf curls into himself. He's amazed by how small the creature is, his whole head much smaller than Theon's fist. The mother was a monster, and her babe is scarcely larger than a piglet.  
Robb has named his wolf Grey Wind. Robb is still young, and takes himself very seriously, and Theon had snickered at the name. "What's your name," he whispers, but the wolf doesn't answer him. It sounds as if he's snoring.

_He is not a Stark, and he never will be. But he's got a wolf._

Theon is awoken by that awful whining. He takes the cloth and stuffs it into the wolf's mouth, and the pup sucks happily. Theon yawns, and then he realises that the little one has opened his eyes. He feels a smile spreading on his lips, a private smile, shared only by the wolf, as he looks into eyes the colour of the sea, blue and green and grey all at once. Something calm runs through his blood, something Theon can't explain (it is peace, and love, but he knows neither of the two very well, and so he stays unknowing) but something he cherishes.  
When the wolf has fed, he looks up at Theon and raises his lips as if he's snarling. Theon laughs. "You're a smiler, aren't you," he says, and the pup snuggles into his hand again. He imagines them running, him and his Smiler, across the frozen mountains of the North, imagines Robb and Grey Wind at their sides. He's got a bow in his hand, and his arrow takes a doe in its leg, and Smiler tears into the animal, and his muzzle is red with blood. Robb laughs and then Grey Wind and Smiler fight over the meat, but in the evening, in the Great Hall, they lie snuggled up in front of the hearth. He sees the smallest of the litter growing to be the strongest, thanks to Theon's gentle care. "An impressive wolf," says Lord Stark. "You did well."  
Smiler turns and licks his hand, his tongue rough on Theon's skin. He seems content.  
They're both content.

_He is not a Stark. Not yet. Theon smiles._

When dawn breaks and Theon wakes, Smiler is dead, just like Lord Stark told him the day before. He takes the lifeless body to the river where he found him, and digs a small grave by the riverside. He tells nobody of the short life of Smiler the direwolf. He didn't do well, and his wolf was not strong enough.  
Theon watches the other pups grow.  
He hates them.

_He is not a Stark, and he never will be._


End file.
